A Sticky Situation
by Koieeshnakof
Summary: Dumbledore has managed to get himself into a bit of a sticky situation. To make matters worse, a dormouse is rapidly eating all of his lemon drops, something that does not please him.


It was really all very funny, Albus Dumbledore mused, stretching his long legs out and leaning up against the wall. The lemon drops shifted with his movements. To be perfectly honest it felt rather nice. _Particularly nice._ In a sticky sort of way.

It was, in all actuality, a very good story. One he'd be sure to remember to tell Severus about at the next staff Christmas party. He had run out of lemon drops again (what a way to begin a tale. He could just see Severus rolling his eyes), and gone in search of some more. He had stumbled (gracefully, of course) upon the Room of Requirements.

Albus smiled and moved his arms in arc through the sea of lemon drops that filled the room up to his neck. With a satisfied expression, he popped another into his already full mouth. One _may_ never be able to have too many socks, but one could also never have too many lemon drops.

It was an odd movement, one that didn't quite feel as nice as the shifting of lemon drops somewhere along his waist line, that made Albus reach his hand down through the sweets.

It was like searching for that ever elusive sneaky little needle in the haystack. Only through lemony goodness, which was certainly better than dried grass.

Lemon drops, lemon drops, and yet more lemon drops. In a moment of pure luck his hand found his pocket. Of course. The dormouse.

It was clearly being crushed under the weight of a million lemon drops. Dumbledore smiled blissfully. What a way to die. Carefully he extended his hand down, and reaching into the pocket, his fingers brushed against soft fur.

"Ah!" Sharp teeth sank into his skin and he withdrew his hand quickly.

Well, he reasoned, he would surely have acted in the same way if someone had tried to remove _him_ from such a blissful situation. However, Albus didn't particularly want a dormouse, dead from so much pressure, floating around amongst his nice, clean lemon candies. Only one thing for it. The whole cloak (pocket, dormouse, and all) would have to be moved, and he'd be damned if he was going to stand up.

Awkwardly (but gracefully, of course), Albus reached down through the lemon drops to grab the bottom hem of his robe, and began pulling it up. After a brief but thoroughly exhausting struggle he had managed to remove it. He tossed it halfheartedly on top of the sweets and watched as the mouse poked its head out. It looked disheveled but happy as it pulled an armful of lemon drops back into the pocket with it.

Albus allowed himself a glare at it for stealing his candies, then sank further back into them, savoring the new contact of the candies on his thoroughly bare skin. He was almost glad that he had run out of lemon drops. He was certainly glad that he had found this treasure trove. Perhaps the best part was that the door was stuck.

The mouse gave a squeak of glee as it gorged itself, causing Dumbledore to look up. Alright, this had gone too far. He had saved its life, wasn't that enough? Did it really need to eat his lemon drops too? His one true source of happiness? Yes, this had gone far enough. With a mighty heave he pulled an armful of lemon drops towards himself. "Mine," muttered, frantically pulling more by the armful away from the mouse. But just as quickly as he pulled them, others filled up the empty space. This wasn't working. In fact, all he was succeeding in doing was making the cloak, mouse included, sink down into the candies, and Albus certainly wasn't going for that.

He popped another few lemon drops into his mouth and briefly wondered if 372 (yes, he had been counting) was enough to account for any significant weight gain in him. He decided he didn't really care. For the moment, there were more pressing matters. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The lemon drops were melting.

It had started perhaps half an hour ago, but now, with the removal of his cloak, it was more apparent. Lemon drops, losing their outer coating, were beginning to stick to him in every uncomfortable place possible. Worse still was the fact that he could now hear people trying to get the door open. The tintinnabulation of hammers against stone met his ears. Doors that couldn't be opened by magic. How amusing they were. From outside he could hear Minerva's stressed voice.

"Could be in Timbuktu for all we know! Just because he was in here once or twice

before -- ,"

Professor Sprout cut her off.

"Well, we'll just ask! Dumbledore! Albus, you in here?"

Albus heard Minerva scoff.

"If he's in there he won't answer you Pomona! Goodness!"

Dumbledore smiled wickedly. "Yes, Pomona dear, I'm in here," he called out pleasantly. Oh what he would have given to see Minerva's face.

From outside Severus spoke.

"Headmaster, how you get yourself into these things, I will never know."

Dumbledore chuckled loud enough for them to hear and called back, "Don't be so hard on yourself Severus! I'm sure you will eventually learn. I'll help you one of these days."

He popped another lemon drop in and pictured Severus rolling his eyes.

The candies were becoming increasingly sticky and getting more and more uncomfortable. He briefly considered using a vanishing spell on them, but it would be a crime to lose all these perfectly good lemon drops.

"We've almost got you out!" Minerva called, apparently trying to pretend the past exchange hadn't happened between herself, Albus and Sprout. Albus sighed and with a struggle (a graceful one, of course) stood up. Several lemon drops remained firmly stuck to his bare skin. He took a heavy trudging step towards the mouse, wading though the thigh high sweets.

He had almost reached it when a beam of light broke into the room. The door fell away and an avalanche of lemon drops rushed into the hall, knocking Professor Sprout over and surging around everyone's ankles. Dumbledore turned to them, beaming.

McGonagall looked as though she were about to faint, and Severus appeared to be praying for patience.

"Your, uh… Albus? Your… clothes." McGonagall stammered, apparently not able to formulate a complete sentence. Dumbledore looked down at his appearance. He was wearing socks. _Just_ socks.

"Ah well, blasted laws of decency anyway!" He stepped out into the hall. Professor Sprout was very red. "Would you care for a lemon drop, Severus?"

Snape did not want to know where Albus pulled that candy from. Trying not to think about it, he took it from the headmaster's outstretched fingers.

"Thank you, Albus."


End file.
